


Clipped wings

by pyropinkfish



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: Autopsy, Character Study, Gen, basically what becca did to louis, etc - Freeform, spoilers for the s1 finale, torture fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropinkfish/pseuds/pyropinkfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Louis is my adopted child, and I have strong emotions; a fic about the mental and physical torture Becca Thorn did to the neutral angel of Vega. </p><p>Find me at protectedbythepeacock.tumblr.com for more pro Louis fuck Becca posts.</p><p>Also special thanks to Morobundity because she helped me with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clipped wings

"Watch over Louis, he's innocent in this."

\--

It was easy to convince the man to join her home; _too_ easy. Pleasant smiles and a flirty wink with promises of safety from Gabriel's possession and the soldiers of Vega had the angel willing to enter the House of Thorn. No one asked questions. No one cared about the produce seller. He was just a simple man as far as Vega was concerned. A nice man who gave fruit to the small V1s and worked honestly.

With the worry of angels in the city, missing people weren't much of a concern. Plenty of people were being scooped up for investigation. It was just assumed Louis was one of those called in for question about the angels. No one knew he was being given a tour of Becca's grand home, a cup of poisoned tea in his hand.

There was two private soldiers with her and by the time the drug in the tea hit, making the angel stumble before falling against the wall, the soldiers had him moved to the lab.

Becca never had a thought about feeling bad. This was business. This was for the city. It wasn't her fault that dead bodies she had access to couldn't tell her what really hurt an angel or not. David wanted to learn about how to find other angels in a crowd of humans. Becca wanted to learn how they worked. Wanted to learn how to trap them, make them talk, torture them. After all, one day they would capture an angel useful to them, and if the only thing they could use to hurt an angel was bullets, it wasn't going to do much to get answers, now would it?

It wasn't her fault Michael handed this man over. It was just her blessing.

She didn't see this creature with the human face as a human, it was a creature. She's studied birds, she's studied humans. This was like no different.

Cutting off his shirt, strapping his arms down to a lab table she had designed previously when experimenting on the corpses, hooking his finger to a heart monitor and an IV to his arm that would consistantly drip a sedative; It all meant nothing to her, after all was science, she was supposed to feel something? He could talk, scream when her scalpel cut into his chest, but he wasn't a human. And it was interesting, so much like a human but different; the muscles were lighter, not as dense. It made her wonder...

So she took a couple ribs. She took bone marrow. She cut into his leg and took a femur; weighed it. Angels had lighter bones. She didn't know how, but they did. Which made her curious about the wings. Were they as light? How did they hide them? Why could they retract and be noticeable?

There was so many X-rays, its a wonder how the angel, who long lost color in his cheeks, lost hope in survival, lost faith in humanity, didn't suffer from the radiation. The images showed all sorts of interesting things to consider. How the muscle was built different, hidden with skin, how the shoulders and bones in the spine were laid differently too.

Each time Becca learned something new, she would talk aloud to herself. At first Louis tried to talk back, pleaded with her to let him go, he tried to answer her questions, but when the hour came, a tray of knives and clamps... Louis didn't speak. He didn't have to ask was she was up to this time. The first time she took a couple useless organs. This time it would be something important.

He was hooked up to wires. On his chest, his forehead, arms. _Electricity_. Oh, so he might have been wrong about another theft of his organs, but he almost wished he was right. Even though she kept the power low at first, gradually increasing, he screamed. He cried. He begged for it to stop when the voltage shook his entire person and left him feeling fried.

Being electrocuted to a certain point tensed the body, setting him into a paralysis he didn't recover from long enough for her to turn him on his stomach and re-strap him down. This was science, it wasn't any hard feelings.

When she sliced into his shoulder blades with no morphine, the reaction to protect himself, to spread his wings now that he had space to do so was automatic. She was a fool for thinking that he would be paralyzed forever. And he'll die knowing he had the honor of seeing the shocked look on her face when she fell on her ass, hair in her face and eyes wide. It would have been funny if he wasn't squirming in hopes of freeing himself, ripping his stitches open.

He kept his wings trashing around, knocking everything over that the appendages could reach. Sadly for him, he was still hooked up on the wires. Louis knew the minute she reached for the machine, hitting the bolt to a higher degree, that he was a goner. Knocked out and his sedative upped. He would sleep right through what she had in plan.

And this one might have been a little personal.

He woke up on his back, craning up, instantly feeling something wrong, instantly tears filling his eyes. His shoulders hurt, he felt empty. Phantom pains of his wings twitching, trying to curl up and protect himself but unable to do so because there was his wing. His wing thumb tacked to a fucking board like how you would pin a butterfly. _His_ wings.

There was one, and the other? The other on a table being cut into; _examined_. The feathers plucked one by one and he could feel it deep, the phantom touches, the agony. The way what was left fluttered in an attempt for him to get away but he couldn't. She took his identity from him. She took the most important physical thing to an angel. The thing that placed him as the species he was.

Louis passed out again, so horrified by the nightmare of his life.

If only he could say that the wings were the last she did to him. No, he woke up with one less lung the next time he opened his eyes, realizing there was a tube down his throat. His eyes reflected the panic and the scientist only spared him a passive gaze before looking back go her new project: Comparing human lungs to angels. Angels being much larger.

This woman just couldn't get enough of cutting into him.

Why even bother closing him back up a third time? This was weakly asked when she felt he could breath without the tube. He could, in fact he was fine on just one. Its not like he would ever need the second now that he wasn't flying anymore. Which was the reason their lungs were so large.

For hours, unable to sleep because the pain in what remained of his wings, the pain of his chest where a Y was cut into him, his ribs where they were broken open so she could cut out things she wanted to look at, he watched her. He watched her pour chemicals on his feathers, burn them, freeze them, anything she could think of. He didn't tell her they could heal injuries.

He was too busy praying for mercy from his Father. Pleading for death.

That's when another voice in his head started to press into his conscious. It was a blessing when Gabriel took over his mind. A break from the pain that the sedative couldn't possibly numb.

Gabriel left almost instantly, whispering apologizes and promises he would send Michael to save him. Gabriel might have been a jerk, but the pain of an angel's wings being taken from them hit hard amongst their brothers. Taking an angel's wings was as awful as taking your arms and legs from you. They were a representation of the grace Father gave them. Taking an angel's wings, you were taking who they were. Gabriel understood that. Humans did not.

Louis didn't feel that comforted, too defeated to bother with protesting when Becca tried poisons on him next. He didn't even have the comfort to know how many days he was under the harsh white lights. Becca just came and went. Each time coming back with a new theory to test.

She was working on an solution that would force an angel to reveal their wings if injected. The nubs of his wings ached when the solution caused them to uncontrollably twitch. A nerve chemical. He was left with the drug cleaning out of his system, attached to a second IV and sleep refusing to come to him when she turned on her heel and went out the door. After making sure the table he was on was lifted up to give more room in the lab.

Being closer to the sky offered comfort he knew she didn't mean to give him.

When the heavy footsteps from boots echoed, he didn't have the energy to even call out for help. It was probably a soldier. A couple of those had passed once in a while in the lab to help Becca move him around. Only this time the voice was different. Two voices. He knew these voices.

For once since he gained access to Vega, he had hope. Hope that he could be killed. And Michael's concerned face filled him with such hope. Subconsciously he tried to fluff his wings, it was a natural reaction amongst angels to preen when before a superior. The agonizing pain that shot in him when his worthless nubs wiggled caused great distress on Michael's face.

Begging him to kill him was easy, he had tried to beg Becca once, but this was Michael. Michael was always merciful, he accepted him into the city as a refugee, he let him stay neutral, they were close. He could save him.

Louis knew that his friend didn't want him to die, that this was a burden to request, he knew that he thought they could save him. Foolish. Who would want to help an angel in this city? Could he even be called that anymore? An angel?

Michael and him shared one last moment, "when Father returns," and with one plunge of a blade, his heart bled into other organs. He smiled at him, his head lolling to the side while the boy, the boy Michael loved and put so much faith into flinched and looked away. He hoped for Michael's sake that this boy was truly as pure as he believed the senator to be.

It took less than thirty seconds for his body to completely shut down, his conscious to fade into nothingness.

He was neutral.


End file.
